The Rage of the Dragon
by InLoveWithDraco13
Summary: "No?" he seethed with rage, his body beginning to tremble. "No! I mean, this can't be. Draco, I'm not," Hermione was at a loss for words as she took in his massive form towering over her in pain and anger. "You are," he hissed, turning away from her and taking deep breaths. "You are," he demanded again, flinging his arms out to her. "This is who I am!"


**Hello lovely people!**

 **Hoping you have all been splendid. The time has come for yet another journey into our beloved world of Dramione.**

 **This is a little different from anything I have posted here before. Draco is much more "in" character, I think. He's not nearly as pleasant and charming as I normally write him but I really felt the need to explore the character in a different dimension.**

 **Also, Ron bashing…*cringes* sorry, I do love Ron, but I also love to hate him.**

 **Please enjoy and as always, thank you for being readers.**

 **Peace and love to each and every one of you,**

 **M x**

Sunday morning.

It _should_ have been the most wonderful time of the week.

It had at one point, been the only chance that she ever found amongst her insane schedule for any sort of peace in her chaotic life. For just a few hours, it would be quiet and she relished the silence.

Hermione Granger had never been used to quiet not even when she was a little girl. Though back then it had usually been her making all the noise, asking multitudes of questions and wondering about everything.

And when she had found out, upon that fated Birthday, that she was a witch…well, normal and mundane and most certainly peace and quiet were no longer the same. It was suddenly muffilato's and silencio's, along with curses and monsters and Dark Lords.

She scowled ominously to herself as she sipped her steaming hot coffee and gave a snoring Crookshanks several pats. All of that was supposed to be behind her now. She should have been able to enjoy her moments of solitude. Yes, everything had been quite— well, normal, as far as Wizarding standards went. She attributed this to both Harry and Ron being out of the country for the last year and half. They were off finishing the job of the heroes: rounding up dark wizards and witches, doing what _Harry_ was made to do. While she, Hermione, had retired to her books and fought an all-together different kind of war.

And by Merlin did she battle.

She battled ministry officials, politicians, and on a few occasions Minister Shacklebolt himself. Her fight for equality of magical creatures went beyond just her job. It was an obsession— a wild force, driving her to near madness as she cut down law after law and went after the most savage and evil of mankind. Her face darkened further thinking about the abuse and violence she had encountered on her many raids. One in particular that she would never be able to forget...

Lucius Malfoy.

The condition she found his elves in after the final battle nearly pushed her over the edge. She was brutal and relentless in her pursuit to see that demon rot in Azkaban for the pain and damage he inflicted. The psychological manipulation and physical torture he wrought on those poor creatures—not to mention his own family.

Narcissa died days after Voldemort's fall, the Healers who inspected her body had been vague— it seemed as if she died from natural causes, stress, most likely heart failure. But Hermione was not buying it in the slightest.

The Malfoy's had been reunited for five whole days, locked away in the Manor, before she, Ron and Harry with a dozen other Aurors had been able to penetrate it's magic, storm the place and attempt to officially arrest The Malfoy's for their war crimes. Hermione reminded Ron several times that Narcissa and her son changed sides, and they deserved a trial at least.

Ron spat about not trusting traitors.

They found the Malfoy Matriarch lifeless in the master bathroom, floating eerily and translucent in murky, frigid water.

Lucius had been absolutely smashed, locked in his study and muttering madly to himself. The Aurors dragged him away. His mind already filled with mad delusions of what Azkaban would hold in store for him.

And the youngest Malfoy, the heir, the cause for so much of her own personal suffering and pain, had been locked, beaten, starved and left almost unidentifiable in the darkest and most putrid fathoms of the dungeon.

Hermione would never be able to forget the horror she felt, the acidic bile rising in her throat at the sight of him. His silky blond hair, always perfectly in place, matted with dried blood. His tall and lean body, now twisted and shamed with purple and yellow dying bruises.

But his eyes, Merlin, they almost brought her to her knees. They were alive, tortured, on fire and burning with hate and yes…regret. Draco Malfoy held so much self-loathing, she was sure that he would burn up with it at any moment, just explode from the intensity of his self-inflicted rage. She looked at him and saw every awful moment, every guilty second that he was experiencing. The betrayal not only of Lucius to his son, but the betrayal Draco had done to himself. The person he had become, all based on lies and insane pureblood mentality. She was sure he realized, had finally come to the understanding that it was wrong— that _he_ was wrong, and that his own father had left him in a cell to die.

In that moment, Hermione took pity on him. She was able to summon up a small sliver of empathy for the lost boy chained to his own floors.

Harry sent him straight to St. Mungo's while Ron murmured something about putting him out of his misery.

It had taken her another eight months to realize that those words, that mentality, were a part of who Ron was and that the moral standing and values he held were not in line with her own. Yes, he was a wonderful and loyal person, but he was, in a way, programmed much the same way Draco had been: unconcerned and unaware of those "beneath" him, those not "human" enough to matter.

And so unfortunately Hermione's work took precedence over her and Ron's relationship. He never did understand what was in her heart and so they had parted on frosty goodbyes shortly after Malfoy's trial. Ron and Harry then left for Germany to begin their first mission. Hermione once again buried herself in her work and blocked out the pang of sadness at their departure.

She missed their chaos more than she thought she would, and the silence hadn't exactly been endearing.

If only she could have retracted those thoughts, for it was exactly six months after they left that her whole life blew up in her face and she knew, deep down, she would never have a moment of peace ever again.

Hermione had been having a particularly nasty week, nay month. But alas, it was a Friday and that was one day closer to her Sunday of solitude; hot tea, her most comfortable sweats and a good book.

Just before five pm, her secretary Marge came pealing into her office, spilling files and coffee everywhere and stuttering like a complete buffoon. Hermione's hair bristled at the unwelcome intrusion. She had been on a call for the last three hours with the most egotistical and sexiest leader Magical Romania had ever seen and was not in the mood for any more stress. She was seconds away from getting him to agree to a sit down meeting to discuss the importance of magical creatures and how they would benefit his lands.

She shooed the frazzled woman away with a look that could stop an ogre, but Marge refused to leave. Dear lord, the woman was actually trying to interrupt her, waving her arms around like a mad woman. Hermione apologized profusely in Romanian before disconnecting the call and turning her frustration on the coffee soaked girl.

" _What_ is so bloody urgent that could make you act like such a imbecile? Do you know how _important_ that call was?!" she hollered, slamming her quill down and standing quickly.

Marge's eyes filled with tears. She dropped the rest of the files she was holding. Hermione's anger vanished immediately. Marge was strong and stubborn. She rarely ever lost her composure. Hermione's instincts kicked in immediately.

"Marge? Marge, what's wrong?"

Marge's eyes went wide as she glanced, terrified, over her shoulder. She turned back to Hermione, her mouth moving but no words forming.

"What?" Hermione asked more frantically drawing her wand. "Speak! Is someone hurt?" she asked, trying to get around the side of her paper-cluttered desk.

"He, the…I…He wants to see you, and he's terribly angry, I-"

"-He? Who is he?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. She was ready for the Minister and his possible issue with the new Bill she just finished and memo-ed to his secretary this morning.

"He's…he's horrid. I tried to make him leave but he was insistent and I don't know much longer I can keep him from bursting in here."

Hermione racked her brain searching face after face in her keen mind, trying to conjure up an identity that would explain this highly unproductive conversation.

"This is ridiculous, you're making absolutely no sense! Who is here? If it's not the devil himself you better have a extremely proper explanation!" she fumed, accidentally singeing her hair with her now sparking wand.

"I'd rather it was the devil," Marge whispered throwing another hurried glance towards the closed office door.

Hermione's eyebrows flew off of her head.

"Who could you possibly be-?" she wondered with amazement, but at that moment all her questions were unfortunately answered.

Any sort of confrontation Hermione had been anticipating was certainty not this.

Her door was flung open carelessly without a knock and in stormed what had once been, in her opinion, worse than the actual Devil.

Her eyes narrowed viciously, daring him to do whatever it was he came to do.

Unleash hell, most likely.

"Granger," he hissed, his storm-grey eyes radiating with malicious intent.

"Malfoy," she greeted him loftily, though she was sure she could not suppress the small tremor in her voice.

Merlin, he was a force. A powerful wave of his magic swept over her and she gripped her wand desperately to keep her head from spinning.

 _Do not fall apart_ , she hissed to herself, pushing her shoulders back and letting her temporary shock mask itself behind a facade of indifference.

She would never let Draco Malfoy shake her.

Never let him get to her, _ever again._

She had not seen him since that nightmarish trip to Malfoy manor. Not until she testified at his trial and had been a key witness in securing him a minimal sentence, away from the insane cries of Lucius' cell at the top of Azkaban fortress.

He never even looked at her. Never thanked her. He never said a word.

And that had been fine with her, really. She had been relieved to see the back of Draco Malfoy. He would never bother her again.

But a small part of her, a very small part had hoped, maybe even prayed, for his redemption.

If anything, she wished he really truly saw the error of his ways and had for once, tried to do the right thing, the hard thing. But she was beyond wanting to find out. Why should she check up on him or see how he was doing? He had practically fallen off the face of the earth, why go looking for him, for trouble?

No, she let that monster die. The potential he had for goodness was too little too late. He would never be what she could see. There was too much damage and she knew, deep down, that he would never be strong enough.

But then why, why was he here now and what could he possibly want with her?

She cleared her throat. He was glaring at her with fury, his shoulders tense. Hermione found his all black suit and cold gaze to be intimidating and…rather attractive.

 _No wonder Marge was such a mess._

Had she really just thought that? Of course, after all he was a gorgeous, physical specimen. A tall lean form with sharp muscles, an intelligent gaze, perfectly shaped lips and high cheekbones that could cut diamonds.

Draco Malfoy was as dark and brooding and dangerous as ever.

Hermione closed her eyes and turned back to her desk, giving him the impression that she could really careless for what he had to say. Hermione called Marge over to her side.

"You will not breathe a word of this to anyone, are we clear?" she whispered to her secretary who nodded slowly, her eyes wide.

Hermione gave her a reassuring smile and a nod of dismissal. Marge chanced one more terrified glance at Malfoy before booking it to the door, tripping in the process and slamming the oak shut with a resounding thud.

"Dumb wench. Do all the people who work for you have such pathetically weak spines?"

The sound of his voice made her want to claw her eyes out with distaste.

"How can I help you?" she replied with cold fury, turning back to face him.

"Help me?" he laughed without humor, his cold eyes narrowing further as he stalked forward. "How can you possibly help me when you can't even help yourself?"

His eyes flickered down to her wildly frizzy hair and the ink stains smudged across her fingers and face. The corners of his mouth slid up with amusement.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" she asked, her voice low with venom.

Her heart was beginning to race. Hermione smoothed the wrinkles out of her white blouse and modest skirt, a telltale sign to those who knew her that she was most definitely anxious and on edge.

Malfoy paused as if momentarily distracted by her hands running down the sides of her body. The sound of the fabric brushing against her skin, she swore it made his jaw twitch.

There was silence, only one sweet moment of complete and utter silent bliss, and then:

"I'm talking about this ridiculous Bill!" he snarled, whipping a piece of paper out of his suit pocket and ricocheting it onto her desk. "Please tell me that Shacklebolt's sniveling excuse for a secretary-don't look at me like that I obliviated her after I swiped it-accidentally mistook this for your work; don't make me actually insult your intelligence."

He threw his hands up, running them arrogantly through his magnificent hair.

Hermione was momentarily wrought speechless, trying to comprehend that he had stolen her Bill from the Minister's desk and then had come here ready to do battle.

Who the hell was Draco Malfoy to storm into her office and call her stupid? She felt the small threads of her already shaken composure snapping.

"I'm sorry, exactly what the hell do you think you're doing Malfoy?" she snapped, puffing up like an indignant bird of prey. "This is completely unacceptable, I'm-"

He rolled his eyes, waving her words away with an impatient flick of his wrist.

"Yes, yes, you're Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Princess, Righteous and Free Leader of all House Elves, Kept Woman of the Scar Hero and Ginger Twat, the Ministry's Personal Pet, shall I go on?"

But it was in that moment that Hermione reacted like she was once again an eleven year old girl, nerdy and insecure, being taunted by the biggest bully who ever lived and anticipating that the word Mudblood would soon be soaring from his sinful lips.

With one flick of her wand she sent him flying backwards, smashing into her massive bookshelves and knocking him onto his ass.

He looked at her momentarily stunned and then he began to laugh, with genuine humor.

It should have been illegal how deliciously handsome he looked in that moment. Hermione almost forgot who she was and where she was standing. Her legs felt as if they might melt.

But then she remembered. Oh yes she did.

She brandished her wand at him once more feeling a smirk softly grace her features.

Yes, she was the one in control and Malfoy, if deciding to take one more jab, would be at her mercy. She was powerful and strong— let him poke the sleeping dragon.

"Now tell me why you are here terrifying my secretary, insulting my being and most importantly disturbing my work or I will hex you into oblivion. Is that clear?"

He brushed the hair out of his eyes giving her the most suggestive and insulting of grins. He was sexy and infuriating all at once.

"Good to see you asserting your power, Granger. It's an intoxicating trait," he drawled, leaping quickly back to his feet. He stalked toward her like a jungle cat, sleek and lethal.

"Sorry?" she nearly choked, clutching her wand with mortification and turning beet red.

As Hermione braced against her desk, expecting a passionate onslaught of unwanted, inappropriate office sex with her sworn enemy, she realized she would not have to use an Unforgivable on him after all. He was once again waving her proposed Bill in front of her face, scowling with displeasure.

"Dragons," he hissed.

He was so close now she could feel his hot breath on her neck.

"What?" she stammered in a daze, completely wrapped under some dark spell of his.

Her eyes could not seem to help once again sliding over his body. When had he grown out of that nasty little boy and into a man? _An obnoxious man_ , she corrected herself.

"Pay attention, Granger," he snapped. "How could you possibly forget the dragons?"

She stared at him seeing through him as she recalled everything she had written in that Bill. It was for magical creatures to be given back lands that were rightfully theirs. Forcing Wizards and Witches in the UK to relocate so that endangered species could continue to survive.

It would be extremely controversial. Hermione had already received backlash from co-workers who thought her idea to up and relocate entire Wizarding villages was absolutely mad. Word had spread fast and now half the Ministry was giving her dirty looks. They couldn't see past their own selfish needs, always putting themselves and their race first. It was maddening.

But Hermione was sure she had almost worked it out: those who had to move would be properly compensated (that was the bit she was still working on—the Board members had made it clear that the Ministry would not be paying for such a massive undertaking) and those who were close to dying off, like giants, would have the chance to re-populate.

And now Draco Malfoy was standing in her office worrying about Dragons?

"You're…not trying to repeal this?" she asked in a low whisper, clutching the paper tightly as if trying to protect it.

His reflexes were quick. He grabbed her by the wrist pulling her even closer. His slate eyes flickered down to her plump lips.

" _Why_ would I ever want to do that? "

He looked at her as if she were mad and…beautiful?

"Since when do you care about the rights of magical creatures?" she asked curiously, wrenching her wrist away from his steel grasp with annoyance.

Suddenly all pretense was dropped. Hermione watched as his shoulders slumped and he turned away cradling his head in hands.

Without warning, he turned and smashed his fist into her wall. She jumped in alarm.

"Draco!" she gasped against her free will.

He turned back to her, his eyes confused and wary.

"What did you say?" he demanded harshly.

"Draco," she was not afraid of him. Something that looked like respect kindled far away in those dark orbs of loss. "What's going on?" she hedged.

He laughed hollowly as he began to pace her office, rigorously running his hands through his hair with nervous energy, murmuring unintelligibly.

She watched him carefully as the minutes passed and just when she thought she would go insane from lack of understanding, he turned to her, his jaw set, his eyes daring her to interrupt him and he spoke:

"I'm one of them."

Silence.

Oh how Hermione wished she could have appreciated it. But in that moment, her mind was racing with chaotic fury.

"One of what?"

He gave her a bored stare before turning away with a huff.

"So smart, smartest witch of her age," he sung tauntingly with a snicker.

Hermione was a second away from hexing him.

Her brain was going into overdrive.

"All right, all right! You're a _dragon_? _That's_ what you're telling me?" she argued, slightly hysterical at the turn in conversation as she tried pushing away her ever-looming logic.

"Fucking obviously Granger!" he nearly screamed, advancing on her once more.

"And you want me? To help you?"

She let out a completely uncontrollable giggle.

He raised an eyebrow at her with disdain and something else she couldn't interpret.

"You've become quite the woman, haven't you Granger?" he drawled, circling her like a bloodthirsty shark.

"Meaning?" she snapped.

His eyes trailed over her appreciatively, almost possessively, before he tossed the Bill back in her face.

"Fix it," he ordered, helping himself to some fire whiskey and sitting down in the chair behind _her_ desk.

Hermione stood there for several moments, the Bill clutched tightly in her hand, waiting to wake up from this most ridiculous nightmare.

But she didn't.

"I'm not leaving until you fix it," he ordered from behind her.

She whipped around suddenly, fury in her eyes.

"I'm not changing anything. Not even considering it until you answer all my questions," she demanded, slamming her palms down on the desk and glaring at him with mistrust.

He rolled his eyes in mock pain.

"What fresh hell is this? That should only take a couple of fucking centuries."

"My way or no way."

He let out the biggest sigh he could possibly manage before dropping his elbows onto her desk and rubbing the sides of his head in agitation.

"What," he hissed. "Do you want to know?"

"Why are you here?" she spat quickly.

"Merlin, spending so much time with those fuckwits you call friends has done damaging things to your brain. I just told you," he complained.

"Shut up Malfoy! And no, I mean why did you come to me? Why not go straight to the Minister with your case?" she huffed with annoyance.

Draco Malfoy a dragon! He had clearly gone insane.

"This isn't something I'm trying to make public, Granger. Do you understand? I'm turning into a fucking dragon."

His tone was beyond vile.

"And you thought-" she began.

But he seemed to be able to read her mind.

"-Yes, yes. Out of all the idiot, little minions who work here I could trust you the most."

She gaped in shock.

"You….trust me?"

"Granger, you're really starting to wear on my nerves."

He thrummed his fingers against her polished desk with maddening superiority.

"Well at least we are on the same page then! Forgive me Malfoy," she snarled sarcastically. "If it's taking a few moments for all of this to sink in!"

"Are we done with your insipid questions?" he drawled with a yawn.

Her glare darkened with dislike.

"Not even close."

She wasn't sure why she was entertaining this at all, why she didn't just tell him to get the hell out. Maybe it was boredom. But she couldn't deny she was curious about the elusive Malfoy heir.

So on it went, for several more hours; the arguing, the bickering, the questioning.

She taunted him, he swore at her, but eventually she wore him down, finally forcing him to prove his wild statement. She had gotten him so worked up he literally shot fire out of his mouth and almost ignited her massively tangled nest of hair. When scales started to erupt from his skin, she shrilly admitted she believed him and after three glasses of fire whiskey and some deep breathing, he was able to return to normal and tell her his story.

After his trial, Malfoy had been placed under house arrest in a deserted home far out in the highlands of Scotland. He explained that he had plans on returning to London once his sentence was completed. He wanted to clear his name and undo all the damage his "father" had spent years perfecting.

Hermione thought that was quite the lofty goal and she was more than skeptical of his real motives.

Malfoy admitted, after two more fire whiskeys, that the place had driven him almost mad. The Ministry told him it was his punishment but that it was also for his own safety. Too many of Voldemort's fallen supporters were still loose and hungry for his blood. He was a traitor, responsible, along with his dead mother, for the fall of their Lord.

It had been there, under confinement, that he began to experience insane headaches and delusions. He was sure the Ministry were experimenting on him, poisoning him. When he was finally freed, the second he was out of sight from his former captors, the rapid transformation of man to Dragon began.

He knew he couldn't return to London as the "shifting" was extremely erratic and so strong he was unable to stop it from over taking him. After the first time he changed, he was unable to calm down or return to human form for almost a week. He was stuck breathing fire and trying to kill everything that crossed his path. He retreated farther from civilization, as he realized how much the world had shrunk and his place in it was no longer one of privilege.

Weeks later, Draco had broken into Malfoy Manor, which had been deserted and abandoned, to start experimenting with magic to fix his affliction. He soon realized his temperament was the trigger for his transformation. Whenever he became furious or overly emotional, he would snap and become a fire-breathing beast.

He was getting better at suppressing it but only if he was around individuals or by himself. It was still not enough. He wanted it to stop completely so that he could return to society with his own safety ensured, and shockingly enough, the safety of others.

"I don't want to be a killer anymore," he whispered into his seventh glass of whiskey.

Hermione was seated across from him. Her quill paused over the messy notes she was taking as the words left his mouth. He looked so defeated in that moment, so alone and distraught.

It was amazing the transformation that could come over someone when they just let down their guard.

"You were never a killer, Draco," she replied softly.

Something in his eyes brought her back to that night at the manor and even farther back to the night that he couldn't kill Dumbledore.

And then she did something absolutely foolish and stupid.

Hermione leaned forward and placed her hand over his.

He stared at it, transfixed, unable to move.

"The things that happened to you were awful. You were a victim too and you've been given another chance-"

He tore his hand away from hers suddenly. She jumped back in alarm at his sudden outburst.

"Out of chances, I'm afraid. I'm not who you think I am," he snarled viciously. "I'm responsible, Granger. For what I did, for my actions."

"And people change," she heard herself whisper, unable to meet his penetrating gaze.

"Yes they do. But I'm not the man you _want_ to see. Don't downplay my horrible decisions. Don't defend my worthless honor and certainly don't deny that this isn't some fucked up karma, some dark curse to destroy me. End me. Finally put me out of my misery."

She watched him carefully. Yes, she, The Smartest Witch of her Age, had been wrong.

Draco Malfoy had changed.

And she was starting to think his remorse might just be genuine.

"I'm not entirely sure what it is. But I know you've lost so much and it would be unfair if you have to lose more."

She took a deep breath, knowing that someday she would regret her need to save the world one screwed up individual at a time.

"Meaning?"

He looked at her with painful doubt in his eyes. His lack of faith pushed her right over the edge.

"I'll help you."

She looked him straight in the face. For the first time in almost two years, Hermione felt alive. Something sparked deep down in her soul and she knew instantly she was doing the right thing.

"Well don't I feel so much better," he replied with an impressive amount of condescension, placing his boots on top of her desk and leaning back in the chair.

She knocked them away with a swipe of her hand, suddenly furious again— how insane he made her with just a few words.

"Why do you do that? Can't you just say thank you?" she snapped.

"Don't push it, Granger."

She rolled her eyes and stood up, stretching her limbs. Hermione was unaware of the heated stare he was giving her soft curves and luscious lips.

"I'm sending these revisions to Kingsley first thing in the morning- my god, it's already eleven! I have to go,"

But in that moment she lost her train of thought, for Draco Malfoy had risen from her desk like some gorgeous demigod and was now once again deciding to decimate her personal space.

Her feet were stuck, rooted to the floor.

"I'm sure it will get approved and you'll at least have somewhere safe to stay," she babbled nervously, her body was beginning to buzz with electricity and she scolded herself for letting his physical appearance mess with her head. "And…in the meantime, I'll do some research on your condition and see if we can't-" she stopped again. He was so close now they were almost touching.

"I'd be more than willing to offer you compensation," he murmured, his eyes liquid lust. Hermione shuddered deeply, feeling his hot breath pushing insistently close to her mouth. "Funds to relocate all of those wicked humans destroying your beloved creatures?"

How could he make a business proposition sound so sexual? She was struck dumb by his offer as well as his proximity to her self. She could do nothing more than nod slowly, as if in a trance.

The look in his eyes sent a particularly strong shiver down her spine. She felt hot and cold and sick and wonderful all at once.

What the hell was he doing to her?

A sort of friction, explosive unseen magic was crackling on her skin, drawing her closer.

And then suddenly, his whiskey-soaked lips were on hers and he was ravishing her mouth with a desire that caused a fuse to ignite and Hermione's logical, brilliant brain to explode.

She burned and smoldered in his passion, barely having seconds to react.

Draco Malfoy was engulfing her with his icy fire, driving all rational thought from her mind. She had absolutely no idea how or why this was happening, but if it wasn't the most sensual and mind-numbing bliss she had ever experienced…

The moment her mouth finally moved on its own accord in an attempt to kiss him back, she realized what she was doing.

In a panic, her hand flew, slapping him straight across his glorious face.

Malfoy's head snapped to one side with a loud slap. She held her breath, waiting for his next move.

Slowly he turned back to stare at her like he had never seen her before.

Comprehension.

She registered that some sort of enlightenment had sparked to life in his head. The most wicked and sinful of smirks graced his perfect mouth as he rubbed his face. She had left his cheek blistering red.

He sidestepped her, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it onto his toned shoulders.

Hermione stood there ruffled and grasping at the strings of her destroyed composure as he leaned down once more, a breath away from her now perspiring skin.

"Thanks, Granger," he whispered with intent and promise, before apparating with a sharp snap and a slick grin.

The sound jarred Hermione back to reality as she slowly brought her shaking fingers up to her thoroughly explored lips.

What the hell had that been? And why had it felt so good? Had he felt it too?

 _Don't play with fire or you'll get burned._

She heard her mother's voice flit through her head before ignoring her instincts and pushing it aside.

It was part of her job, she insisted, to help even the most horrendous and misunderstood and slimiest of creatures, why should Draco Malfoy be any different?

Dear Merlin was he different.

From that day forward Hermione never had one second of peace and quiet, not one. For months and months, the last seven months to be exact, Draco Malfoy would promptly intrude into her office at nine am on the dot.

On those mornings he was full of mischief and would spend hours taunting and teasing her and trying to make her forget she was sane. He would turn her coffee into absinthe, fly little objects at her to tickle her face or drop on her head. He loved shooting staples at her while she was on the flu with diplomats and he talked incessantly, cheerful shit about anyone he disliked, which most of the time was Harry and Ron. He sucked her energy down to the bone and seemed to get high off of keeping her attention on him for as long as possible. He was a total child and an annoying one at that.

Though there were too many moments when Hermione actually found herself enjoying his company, laughing at his snarkiness, or admiring his keen intelligence and exceedingly sharp wit.

She found herself forgetting that she had once despised the stupid little ferret. It seemed as though his prejudices had evaporated now that he was free from the horrible influence of his father and Voldemort.

And after their initial meeting that fiery kiss was never too far from her mind. But Hermione pushed it aside, vowing to never give him the opportunity for a repeat.

She had come to her senses about not wanting to get burned, literally and figuratively. And getting involved with a Malfoy was most assuredly the quickest way to do both.

Other days he was angry, brooding, unreachable and clearly in pain. He would show up drunk and catatonic, stumbling in around noon and criticizing everything she did.

It always ended in a blow out fight.

She would try to remain calm but he would always push her past her breaking point.

It was insane.

She would try to leave, he would freak out, lose control and she would have to sooth him so he wouldn't transform in her office and swallow her alive.

Hermione knew it was unhealthy.

She also knew it was completely unethical for her to be keeping Draco Malfoy's secret from the rest of the Wizarding World. He could definitely hurt someone. But she was the only one he could rely on.

And how would the masses react, what would the government do to him if they found out?

 _Kill him._ Or worse, _imprison him._

He had said so several times a week, especially when she came close to shutting down and giving up on his predicament.

But she couldn't, it wasn't who she was and Draco Malfoy was taking full advantage of that.

 _But why?_

Did he honestly enjoy spending his every waking second trying to unhinge her with his antics?

Yes, it seemed that way.

And why was she doing this?

The funds for her relocation project— his donations saved her so much time. Yes, that was part of it...but was she seriously making her own life more stressful just so Malfoy could be saved?

Yes.

Truer than true.

It infuriated her and so she ignored her contradictory thoughts about him and focused on the matter at hand.

It had only taken twelve hours from their initial meeting, for her to realize his ailment was genetic. A rare gene that had lay dormant for several centuries— according to the ancestral books she had him pull from his Manor's library.

His PTSD from the war triggered it into dominance. His years of mental conditioning and control had snapped and the isolation of his sentence had been the final push. Though his body had subconsciously waited until he was free from his prison to erupt. Which would explain the delusions and migraines.

There was a secrecy that came with these bloodlines, a fierce need to survive, to find a mate and continue the legacy.

According to the ledgers, only two of the ten wives of previous Malfoy dragons had survived their wedding nights.

Hermione took those stats in with a sharp breath and a fierce flush.

Draco's eyes had snapped up over another book he was looking through—his features immediately anxious and demanding for some cure. But when he saw her blush he leaned closer, basking in her natural beauty and embarrassment.

"Find something naughty, Granger?"

A devilish grin flitted around his mouth.

"No!" she yelped, slamming the book shut and reaching for another.

He smirked.

"The Malfoy men are quite a handful, huh?"

"Understatement of the century," she muttered, flipping through the next tome with more force than necessary.

"Admit it, Granger, you find me charming."

"I find you annoying."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to concentrate on the words flying over the pages, but she couldn't.

He was getting into her head.

Three months later the Bill was finally passed.

They celebrated with champagne and working late in her office.

Draco had gained much better control of his beast and had been able to remain in human form for almost 6 weeks now. But Hermione was insistent that they find an actual cure, something to make it stop forever, just to be safe.

But a small voice in the back of her mind was telling her that time was running out and soon, Malfoy would be gone.

No more late night take out or three am walks through Green Park (they both happened to be night owls). He would no longer _need_ her, and in some small way that made her prickly. Now that he had land to roam on (if she couldn't find a cure), and no one to hold him here, why wouldn't he take freedom, a chance to start over and turn his back on a community he had alienated himself from? Was the family name really that important to him? Or was it something else?

Her thoughts were deep and dark as the night. A frown marred her face as she flipped through another report and took a dainty sip of her champagne.

"How about a kiss?"

He looked sinfully delicious tonight in his all black suit with his hair slicked back. His eyes were dark with desire, his glass dangling carelessly from his graceful fingers. He toyed with the stem as Hermione imagined his fingers caressing her in much the same way.

"Malfoy!" she barked, slamming the documents down on her desk. "I am trying to work, to help you. So if you could just…stop talking, I'd greatly appreciate it."

"I already found the answer."

His tone of voice barely shifted. If she hadn't been listening, she would have brushed it off as some stupid comment of his.

"What?" she whispered, just to make sure she wasn't hearing things.

"Yea," he confirmed with a bored drawl. "Now can we go to dinner?"

"When?" she breathed, trying to keep herself calm.

She was running on two hours of sleep. Today had been hell (she had barely refrained from blasting the Romanian Minister to pieces during their flu conference. She was still trying to convince him to cease the violence against his own magical creatures and was making very little progress) and now, she had just been starting to relax.

Well, sort of.

"Ages ago," he quipped, throwing back the rest of his drink and placing it on her desk. "Are you almost ready? This reservation was near impossible to get, even for me."

He threw her a roguish grin.

"And you are just telling me this now!? Why, in Merlin's saggy ball sack have you been keeping this from me?"

She felt tears forming behind her eyes and it made her furious. She flew to her feet.

"I didn't want to distress you."

He looked at her with genuine surprise.

She hated his devastatingly handsome face.

"Distress? DISTRESS ME!?" she nearly screamed, her magic sending her champagne glass flying as it whipped itself off the desk and smashed into the closest wall.

For a moment he was taken aback.

Then he smirked.

This was apparently the wrong gesture.

She exploded.

"What the hell is wrong with you!? I have spent a year of my life! A YEAR! Helping you, taking your criticism, dealing with your fits, putting six OTHER projects on hold all because of you! And you don't even have the decency to be honest with me? Is this a joke to you? What are you playing at? Why have you been doing this?" she shrieked, whipping her wand out and aiming straight for his chest. "Why? ANSWER ME!"

He raised his hands calmly in defense, but bloody hell he was still smirking.

How she longed to smack that grin off his face.

"Hermione, we are going to be late for-" he tried calmly.

"I don't give a shit about dinner Malfoy! You tell me what the fuck is going on or I swear I'll blast you right through this-"

She stopped.

He was smiling now, and she was trying to remember what had cut through her venomous rampage.

Her name.

He had said her name, for the first time ever.

She felt her wand drop uselessly to her side and she sunk slowly down into her chair.

He chose that moment to finally humanize her. When she had been three seconds away from giving up on him completely.

And there was silence.

Except it wasn't calm or peaceful at all. It was radiating with tension and fury and built up resentment and desire— all wicked and perverse, the air heavy as if before a wild storm seconds away from unleashing.

Hermione breathed deeply, listening to the air leaving Draco's lungs.

He was giving her a moment.

Finally.

"What," she whispered, after several long minutes. "Did you find?"

She closed her eyes wanting him so desperately to disappear from her life, to have never had walked through her door at all. She had tried denying him so completely. But Draco Malfoy made her feel so much.

He watched her carefully, weighing his options. He let out the deep breath he had been holding in and leaned across the desk towards her— his silver, hypnotic eyes forcing her to see him, to see the truth.

"You," he breathed. "Hermione Granger. "

"I'm sorry?" she choked back, completely thrown.

"I found you. You're the one. The cure."

His statement was followed by the most profoundly agonizing moment of silence she had ever experienced.

No, he was lying. He must have heard her thoughts because he pulled out a small, black book and threw it at her.

"My great, great, _great_ grandfather's journal. I've been keeping it from you, because, well, you'll see," he muttered darkly.

Hermione's hands were shaking as she slowly opened the book. She could already feel what was coming. And she wasn't disappointed.

The only way for a Malfoy dragon to be in control was for them to find and be accepted _completely_ by their most compatible match—the one whose light would be able to drive the darkness from their tarnished soul. Once the two were bonded together, mentally and physically, the gene would come under the control of the Malfoy and he would be able to shift forms only when he wanted to.

The women who survived sexual encounters with men of this kind were deemed worthy, strong enough to carry on the Malfoy seed. If rejected, he would revert to his dragon form and stay there until death. His line would be wiped out and the gene would disappear from the Malfoy blood forever.

"No," she whispered, horrified.

His eyes darkened instantly as he flew to his feet.

"No?" he seethed with rage, his body beginning to tremble.

"No! I mean— this can't be. Draco, I'm not…"

She was at a loss for words. Hermione took in his massive form towering over her in pain and anger.

"You are," he hissed, turning away from her and taking deep breaths. "You are," he demanded again, flinging his arms out to her. "This is who I am!" he bellowed.

Hermione pushed herself away from her desk retreating a good distance before cautiously trying to approach him with a calmness she did not feel.

"Please. Calm down, relax, relax."

She tried reaching for his face but he jerked away.

"I can't," his jaw was clenched so tightly she could barely understand him. "Help me, Granger. I can't. You. Said. No. You said. _No_."

She was starting to panic.

"I just need a second to think about this please! Malfoy get yourself under control or you will destroy both of us," she snapped suddenly, letting her terror and emotion once more overcome her logic. How dare he put her in this situation!

She slapped him smartly across the face and watched his eyes turn from frost to blackened rage. _Definitely not helping the situation_ , she thought desperately.

So Hermione Granger did the only thing she could think that was left to do.

She kissed him.

Fiercely.

With every inch of her soul, she threw her morals to the flames and plunged head first into the fiery molten lava of hell. Something clicked, snapped into place between them and she was terrified and exulted by the connection she felt pulling her deeper and deeper into his depths of passion and need.

And Merlin did it feel amazing. He grasped her tightly to him, possessing her, infiltrating her, marking her as his— and she let him.

She let him over and over and over again—for the next several months to be exact.

Their sex was unparalleled. He wanted her every second of every day and who was she to resist? She let him take her on her desk at least fifteen times this week in every single position imaginable. He had insisted on acquainting himself with her flat— every room, surface and wall available was not unmarked by the memory of Malfoy's naked flesh on hers, his hot mouth devouring her, wickedly whispering words of longing and seduction—his beautiful body covered with sweat slamming into her, making her scream and shake with rapture.

They hadn't spoken about the rest.

Malfoy reintroduced himself into society just a few short weeks ago, ignoring Hermione's wishes for him to wait a tad longer, just incase the dragon was still in control. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. He was eager to return to his life and reclaim what he could of his name. He talked about rebuilding the Malfoy fortune and changing its legacy. He said he was doing it for him and only him but Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that this was not entirely the case.

She had followed him twice, wondering if he might be up to something nefarious since his well publicized return, but both times he had visited his mother's grave. He was working constantly now and every other minute that he was not irritating her, he was fighting along side her trying to fuse her ethics and ideas of equality with his Company's name. To bring awareness to a critical issue and use what was left of the Malfoy power, to create change.

She was so impressed with his commitment to their cause that she didn't even argue when he insisted on shagging her in one of the ministry elevator shafts after a lunch meeting with Shacklebolt.

He whispered against her hot skin how unbelievably sexy she looked in her tight pencil skirt and librarian glasses, her passion pouring out of her and making him hard. He confessed that when she had told the Minister to sit down and shut up before completely destroying his argument in accepting any more favors from the Minister of Romania, Draco swore he almost came in his pants.

News broke almost immediately about Draco's return to society and Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before her messy involvement with him became known.

And so she stressed, which had led her to Friday evening.

She had just been about to leave work when Draco rudely barged into her office. Before she could even greet him, he had wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her in for a long, sultry kiss. When he pulled back his face was filled with triumph.

"Sixteen! Sixteen new investors! Can you believe it? I might actually be crazy enough to pull this off and get Malfoy Enterprises back on its feet. And it's all thanks to you."

He looked down at her very seriously, before pulling her once again to him.

She had sent several letters of recommendation on his behalf in order to make his transition back into polite society a bit easier.

Malfoy was slowly, but surely proving her wrong. He was becoming the person she never thought he could be.

"Let's celebrate, wherever you want to go. France? Italy? The lady is not impressed. Fine, Japan," he replied with easy arrogance, but she could tell he was excited, carefree in a way. Something like the man she had always anticipated she would end up with.

Of course this only meant one thing:

Draco Malfoy was human.

And she was starting to feel things she should have guarded herself against. She didn't know if this was fate or if she might be able to control it. But regardless, she was way in over her head and most certainly did not want to take the chance of destroying herself…or him.

What the hell was she supposed to do?

She smiled at him but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

 _Save him. Save me. Save him. Save me._

Draco picked up on her emotional vibe immediately. Ron had never read her like Draco could.

"What's the matter?" he asked sharply, lifting her face up to his to inspect her.

She shook her head, pulling away gently.

"I'm just tired," she muttered, hitching her bag onto her tightly knotted shoulder. "I was just about to head home."

He nodded taking her bag from her and ushering her towards the door, worry etched on his striking features.

"Alone," she whispered.

He raised an eyebrow, his face darkening with displeasure.

"Tell me what's wrong," he demanded, his voice rising ever so slightly.

"Draco," she closed her eyes, massaging her fingers against her aching head. "I don't have the energy right now, I just need to go home and sleep. Everything's fine, I promise."

She tried to step around his tense form and leave things unsettled.

That infuriated him.

"Don't lie to me Granger," he hissed, spinning around and grabbing her with one swift snatch. He pulled her up against him, looking down at her with his orbs of wicked pewter. She could hear a growl deep in his throat as his jaw twitched with annoyance at her stubborn behavior.

"I'm not."

She was.

"I just need some time…to think."

"Because you don't do enough of that in a days time. Dammit Hermione, you're pissing me off! What the bloody hell am I supposed to do?" he bit out desperately.

She laughed despite herself. His concern was so genuine yet harsh. It was sad that he had never learned how to comfort another being. Yet again, she doubted he had ever known compassion, even as a small child.

"Just let me get my head on straight. I have some things to figure out. That's all."

He really didn't like the sound of that. His anxiety was so palpable that she reached for his hand rubbing circles across his palm. He grasped her hand tightly, squeezing it with need.

She knew she was losing this battle.

She took a deep breath and let her candid honesty ring with a clear and concise tone. She was a Gryffindor, dammit! Though that thought didn't stop her from dreading what she knew was to come.

"I got a letter from Harry today. He and Ron are due back in London this Sunday."

His reaction was exactly what she had expected. He let go of her immediately and took several steps back, his breathing harsh, like she ripped out his lungs.

The devastation in his eyes tore at her heart. She didn't speak— she was ready for the fall out, had been and always was anticipating an explosion if Draco flipping Malfoy was around.

He was an agent of chaos. Chaos: something she would never be able to rid herself from— riding the fine line of true loathing and impossible love.

Her need for silence was nothing but a pathetic sham. Her life would never be anything but this.

She could tame him—she would not back down.

"I forgot about them," he muttered to himself running his hands through his hair as if he would like nothing more than to rip it all out. "I forgot about those fucking leeches."

"Malfoy," she stated quietly, waiting for him to react. She could see he was trying as hard as humanly possible to control it, but the dragon was too strong. "They are my best friends-" he slammed his fist into the wall, blood and smoke flew from his knuckles instantaneously. "-Don't be ridiculous."

"You want to see ridiculous?" he roared, swiping her desk clean.

She watched in shock as he systematically tore apart her entire office. The fire from his fingers and mouth burning the world around her.

 _Let it burn._ She thought idly. She could feel his rage, but it only gave her a sense of mild irritation. _A spoilt monster_ , she concluded, _having a temper tantrum_.

He wouldn't dare hurt her. She could feel her magic protecting her and something else— was it trust in him?

It took him minutes to blow off his rage and when his fury finally simmered, he slumped down the side of the wall in defeat.

"Are you quite finished?" she hissed with immense irritation. Her heart began to race at the defeat she saw in his shoulders. With one wave of her wand the room righted itself. Draco didn't look up. "Malfoy!

"You're going to leave me. For them," he stated with a harsh, dead sounding whisper. "This is it. Only a matter of time."

"You could have just destroyed yourself! And me! Get your emotions under control!"

He looked up at her, that haunted look was back in his eyes.

"You were always too good for me. What the hell made me think I could ever be good enough for you?"

His anguish hit her like brick wall, splintering and obliterating her resolve.

She was at his side in an instant.

She grabbed his hands— they were trembling and covered in scales. They looked down at them simultaneously.

He laughed hollowly. She felt broken in some obscure way. He knew what that meant and so did she. The rage of the dragon would only be controllable if she gave herself to him fully, not just in body but in heart as well.

And it terrified her more than any magical beast ever could.

"I just can't get off the losing side, no matter what I do, huh Granger?"

He snatched his hands back from her with a smirk of sardonic humor, as he attempted to mask his shredded nerves.

"Draco, you aren't being fair. I'm giving this a chance, I'm trying."

"Why? Do you feel it's your duty? You're sacrificing yourself like some martyr to try and give me the best shot at a normal life? Fuck you! You really think you're a fucking saint don't you?"

He jumped to his feet, blistering with fresh rejection.

"Don't be so stupid!" she yelled leaping up after him. "I got involved with you because I wanted to, not because it was my duty or some sort of heroic salute, you total _idiot_!"

"And now?" his voice trembled with bitterness and rage. "Now that precious Potter and the Ginger Twat are back in the picture you figure two is better than one?" he spat his venom with boiling jealously.

"Get the hell out of my face!" she roared, turning away from him to conceal the damage he was doing to her already gaping, torn heart.

"You aren't denying it!" he flung back, his voice breaking like a harsh wave, rising and falling with a crescendo of misery.

"You are so unbelievably selfish! How I ever thought we could be together-I must be out of my bloody mind!" she raged, flinging her stapler at his head.

He dodged it with one swift jerk of his perfect body.

"What?" he asked un-phased by her violence, focusing only on the words he so desperately needed from her.

"Nothing," she stalked passed him, but he reached out and grabbed her once more. "Stop doing that!" she screamed, knocking him out of her furious path.

"You want to be with me?"

His eyes were filled with so much pain and hope she almost crumbled to her knees. But her fire, her passion overcame that obstacle.

"I _have_ been with you! You complete moron! Just because I haven't declared you my soul mate doesn't mean I haven't been enjoying our time together! Do you think so little of me? That I would just stop being with you because of Harry and Ron?"

"Yes," he spat. "That's what you need to think about, isn't it?"

"If you had just listened to me instead of flying off the handle then I would have explained! I was trying to figure out what I am going to tell them, how I am going to possibly make them, make _myself_ , understand that I am falling in love with you! The most impossible, obnoxious, incredibly infuriating BEAST I've ever had the displeasure of knowing!" she shrieked, shoving him roughly out of her way and stalking to the door.

"Hermione! Wait!"

His plea fell on deaf ears.

The tremendous force with which she slammed her office door resounded in his ears as if it were the sound of imprisonment.

Draco Malfoy felt a deep remorse that was unknown and strange. He did not like how it felt—her walking out on him. The silence made his brain scream in protest as he fell to his knees and asked the Universe to take away the destruction he had wrought on the only person who gave a shit about him.

Now here she sat sipping her lukewarm coffee, lost in memories of the past year.

Hermione spent the weekend alone, moping in her bathrobe, lamenting over her impossible infatuation with Draco Malfoy.

He had given her space, hadn't tried to contact her at all since Friday night's blow out.

And she missed him.

Sunday mornings hadn't been this subdued for a long time. He would have normally been in her shower by now washing off their wild night of love making while she made them coffee.

It was silent.

Too silent.

But she needed time to come to grips with this most momentous of revelations. It was healthy to separate herself from the monster that had continually consumed her with no reservations. He was in her thoughts, her soul and her body. He marked every inch of her. And yet somehow, she was actually accepting that fact.

But the boys, how could they ever understand?

Harry agreed to meet for drinks that night at 8pm sharp; The Three Broomsticks, just like old times.

It was a wickedly, cold evening and Hermione was relieved to get out of the snow storm that had picked up as blackness coated the evening sky. She made her way into the warm pub, which was cozy and merrily decorated for the upcoming holidays.

She shrugged off her coat, her eyes searching the crowded room for her best friend.

Harry was waving wildly at her from "their" booth tucked away in a corner and situated right by the roaring fire. She eased her way through the room full of magical people and creatures, nodding to smiling strangers and greeting several familiar faces. She was Hermione Granger after all and it was almost impossible to make a public appearance without causing some sort of stir.

It was as if Harry had never left. Their friendship was the most pure and amazing thing she had ever experienced in her life. She had no idea how she would have ever gotten on without him and Hermione had no doubts that he felt the same away about her.

They chatted for two hours non-stop, exchanging stories and reminiscing about past times. It was only after she had relaxed with several glasses of wine that she brought up the inevitable.

"How's Ron?" she asked cautiously.

Harry looked away, not wanting to damper their joyous reunion.

"He was going to try and stop by. He wanted to visit with George and Ginny as soon as he got back."

That was strange, shouldn't it have been as soon as "we" got back? She thought.

"Of course," Hermione murmured casually, watching Harry's face for the telling twitch of his left eye. There it was. He was bluffing. "I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that I broke his heart and he's still clearly not over it," she stated rather bluntly.

Harry choked on his drink.

"How could you possibly know that?" he sputtered.

She rolled her eyes and sighed with exasperation.

"It's been almost two years, Harry. I was hoping I wasn't right. Is that it then? He's still bitter about the end of our relationship?"

"He'll come around 'Mione, you know how he is. I'm sure now that we're back, things will get better."

Hermione cringed inwardly at his statement— if he only knew. She guessed it was now or never.

"Actually, I-"

But she was distracted by the sound of the pub door opening and the cold blast of wind that followed.

She looked up to see Ron Weasley scowling as he pushed his way angrily past people, looking around for Harry.

Hermione was sure perfect timing was never her forte but her confession had just become one thousand times more difficult than she had anticipated.

He slumped into the booth next to Harry, immediately looked around for Madam Rosmerta and with a wave of his hand she brought him a drink.

He downed it instantly, ordered another and gave the bar maid a winning smile. As soon as she left, he threw back the hood of his cloak and his eyes fell on Hermione; they were cold and distant.

Hermione felt as if she were looking at a stranger. This couldn't be Ron. He looked like a warrior, a hardened man who had killed and fought for things he might not have even fully understood. His transformation was extreme.

He eyed her with mistrust and burning pain.

"Hermione."

His voice. Dear God what had happened to it? He sounded as if he had died a thousand deaths. He looked empty of emotion or even recognition. Something was terribly wrong. Hermione could not speak. She just stared and stared, unable to comprehend this person was the same man who had been her first love.

"Harry," She finally whispered. "What's going on?"

Ron laughed in her face.

"Too good to speak to your old lover?"

Ron gave her a horrible smile that stretched the death-white scars that ran across his neck and face. S

he gasped as he shrugged off his cloak to uncover savage burns oozing from his arms.

"What happened to you?" she asked softly, momentarily forgetting the animosity that was radiating off of him.

"You. Hermione. You happened to me," he hissed.

"Ron-" Harry began warningly, but Hermione held up her hand.

"Please explain," she asked as calmly as she could muster.

"I left this city broken, you did that to me. I left Harry in Germany, I didn't wanna play the hero anymore— we always knew I was never much of one," he threw Harry a nasty sneer. "That was your job, mate. And we all know I would never be smart like you, Miss. Perfect. So what did I have? Nothing, nothing but rage. I went to Romania and got in touch with the Prime Minister there—great chap. He offered me a job to hunt and kill magical creatures that were trying to take over his lands, fucking dragons and other monsters that deserve to die. And what did I ask for in return? Money. So much bloody money that I could come back here just to tell you to go fuck yourselves, with your righteousness and adoration. And now, all thanks you to Hermione, I have exactly what I want."

"And that is?" she replied, her tone like ice.

Ron's face split into a nasty, cold smile as he reached into his bag and pulled out a huge sack of coins.

"Enough money to buy that dead, cold heart of yours," he replied spitefully.

"Are you insane?" she gasped looking at Harry in horror.

Ron began laughing.

"Of course not, you don't have a heart to sell, but I'll take the rest."

"Ron, you are right out of order -" Harry began, but Ron ignored him and lunged over the table at Hermione, gripping her arms with his blood-crusted hands.

"You'll be mine bitch, do you hear me?"

Hermione shoved him away from her as Harry reached for Ron. But he wasn't quick enough.

Before Hermione could even blink, she saw a flash of platinum and black as Ron was ripped out of his seat, smashed in the face with a fast moving object and tossed to the floor like a limp rag doll.

Hermione looked up, her jaw dropping in shock as she heard Harry's audible gasp beside her.

"Draco Malfoy." he breathed, looking as if he had seen a ghost.

Draco's eyes were trained on Ron's slumped over form, his fist still clenched tightly from the blow he delivered to Weasely's face. He gave no indication that he was aware either Hermione or Harry were present.

He only had eyes for his prey.

"Get the fuck up Weasel," he hissed with menace, his body vibrating with wrath. "Get up or I swear I will kill you here and now. "

"Draco," Hermione had finally found her voice. The whole pub had gone quiet and everyone's eyes were trained on the dramatic scene unfolding before them. "Draco. Calm down."

Harry was looking at her with insane curiosity. The tone of her voice when she said their old enemy's name made him extremely wary.

Draco ignored her as Ron stumbled slowly to his feet. He turned to face his most hated adversary.

"Malfoy!" Ron nearly screamed with insane glee. "They let you out of the madhouse? Shame. You know what I say, the only good Malfoy is one locked up in Azkaban for murdering his wife!"

Malfoy breathed deeply, his body tense, ready to strike. He was wild for the kill.

Hermione flew from her seat throwing herself in front of him. Her hands landed on his chest as she forced him to look down at her.

"Don't do this. Please. You don't want to do this," she begged him.

"I do though, Granger. I want it more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life," he bit out desperately, trying to tear his gaze from the look he saw in her eyes—the look that meant she believed in him.

"Draco, I know this is difficult, but you aren't this person. You aren't. I know you, I know you so well," she said it with such conviction that he felt his throat closing up with emotion.

"Granger, I want to be…better for you. I just…I can't."

He shoved her away from him and turned back to her ex lover with nothing but murder. He leveled his eyes on the pathetic excuse of a wizard who was watching their interaction with growing fury.

"What the fuck was that?" Ron raged with murderous tones, the veins in his neck straining for deprived oxygen.

"None of your business, Ron," Hermione snapped, as Harry made a move to disarm Ron.

He shrugged him off violently, throwing him back into his seat with a nonverbal spell.

"Impressed? I finally learned," he mocked them with his furious laughter. "Finally! No longer the lame third of the trio."

"You know it was never that way-" Hermione tried.

"NO!" he screamed, spit flying at her face. "That's exactly what it was. I was always the last one, the sidekick— the incompetent boyfriend. Neither of you _ever_ gave one fuck about me!"

"Ron that's not true!" Hermione cried, tears flinging themselves onto her face in worship.

"Are you fucking him?" he screamed.

Hermione closed her eyes, so much for a relaxing catch up at the pub.

The air was so still she could taste the betrayal and undoing of his soul, the rain would fall soon and wash it away, clarify everything. If only she could mask it.

 _Let the storm come_ , she prayed. _Let it be swift and fierce and die just as quickly._

Hermione Granger realized in that moment, she hated silence more than she hated anything ever before.

"We're together," she responded with her head held high in the air. She would not be ashamed of herself, or them.

There was more silence, and—then chaos.

The pub's energy and anticipation burst open like a water balloon, saturating and infusing into everything it touched. People were cheering and screaming and yelling and talking so loudly Hermione felt the reverberation in her head.

Ron charged at Draco with a roar and both of them went crashing through the door and out into the snowy night.

At least three quarters of the pub's clientele filtered out into the street to watch the brawl.

Hermione turned to Harry who was shaking his head at her in disbelief.

She did the only thing she could think to do, she shrugged and gave him a pleading look. He rolled his eyes then grabbed her arm, pulling them both out into the night.

"You love him?" he yelled as he chased after her through the snow.

"It's crazy, Harry. I know. I do, but I swear-"

"Hermione, I've never questioned your judgment before, I'm not about to start now."

In that moment she felt a deep love fill he., Harry was giving her his support. He trusted her.

Her smile fell.

And Ron never did.

"What do we do? Harry, we have to stop this or Draco will kill Ron!"

They had reached the edge of the drunken crowd.

"Are you sure it won't be the other way around?"

They pushed their way past the jeering spectators trying to reach the center of the fight where both Ron and Draco were circling one another, ready to spill blood.

"I'm going to take so much pleasure in gutting you, you piece of shit," Ron hissed viciously, trying to charge Malfoy who slipped out of the way, turning swiftly once again to face Ron's fury.

"She doesn't want _you_ Weasely. She's upgraded, obviously," He snarled back, taunting him with a victorious sneer as he took another swing.

He just clipped Ron's face as Ron pulled a knife and slashed at Draco, who jumped back quickly, narrowly missing the steel.

Hermione gasped in horror as she pushed through the crowed, desperate to end this.

"I was her first!" screamed Ron, his mouth foaming with rage. "You'll never have her like I have, all tight and innocent. I can still remember how it feels to be inside of her. You can't have her! You're nothing but filthy death eater scum, just like your father-"

But the rest of his words were drowned out as Draco exploded from his human form, fire and smoke knocking everyone off of their feet and the ground trembling like it hadn't since the Giant Wars.

In his place, stood the darkest and most terrifying creature Hermione had ever laid eyes on: a furious dragon, ready to maul and destroy all of those around him.

The dragon blasted flames that shot fifty feet in Ron's direction. It would have been an instant kill, if Ron's reflexes hadn't become so honed. He jumped quickly behind a fallen tree.

Hermione screamed.

The dragon snapped his head towards her voice, his black eyes falling on her. And for a moment, she swore they softened.

"Stop!" she cried, flinging her arms out at him, as if she wanted to embrace his curse. "Stop!" she took a deep breath. "Draco, I love you. I love you and if you do this, it's going to destroy me, and you. Please. I accept this. Us. You. You are not a killer. You are not a monster."

It was in that split second that Ron Weasely lost his mind. With a bellow of the broken hearted, he ricocheted from the ground and stabbed his knife straight into the dragon's chest.

It let out a roar of anguish and fury. Slowly, surely, moment-by-moment, it's aggression fled to be replaced with exhaustion and the great beast collapsed in a pile of fire, leaving nothing but a naked Draco Malfoy behind.

The crimson was flowing in torrents from his flesh.

His pale, shaking hand reached out for her. He fell to his knees, looking down at the blood smeared all over his hands and dripping softly into the fresh snow.

"Granger," he murmured, reaching for her face as she fell to her knees beside him.

She felt a numbing relief flow through her as her heart almost burst with the acceptance of this wild and uncontrollable need to love him.

"You're okay. You're okay," she chanted over and over again forcing herself to stay calm.

Harry had jumped Ron from behind, disarmed him and was now dragging him away. He was magically bound and cursing her to hell and beyond.

 _He would never stop loving her_ , he screamed. _He would never let her go. Malfoy would have to kill him_.

Draco roared back that it would be arranged before he blacked out from the vicious gapping wound he had been dealt.

The air was once again hushed with the unspoken words of what was to come as Hermione cast the most powerful obliviation spell she had ever managed in her life. If not, the townsfolk would surely be off to find the nearest media outlet and/or Auror and be the first to tell the story of the year and/or collect a handsome reward.

Rosmerta helped Hermione flu Malfoy's unconscious body to St. Mungo's minutes later.

She sat by his side as he battled a vicious fever for days on end. Ron's blade had been imbedded with Dragon poison and the Healers were unsure if he would be able to fight it off.

She had to come clean about his genetic hiccup—normal wizards would not be mortally wounded from a poison meant to specifically slay Dragons.

If Hermione truly loved him, like she was sure she did, then he would be okay. The dragon would be gone and Draco would survive.

But at the moment, things were looking grim.

Two days later, when his condition wasn't improving in the slightest, Hermione went into full panic mode. She cried into Harry's chest in the waiting room telling him the entire story from the beginning, then making him promise to give her time before having to reveal the full extent of his condition to Kingsley.

Then she had called the Prime Minister of Romania and railed at him like a mad banshee promising to send a raid team his way by the end of the day to confiscate all his illegal weapons created for the sole purpose of killing magical creatures.

She returned to Draco's side and all was silent.

He slept on battling his demons. But in her head the world was chaos and she could only hear herself screaming to him, _I love you I love you I need you please don't die._ And as the hours passed and Hermione's doubts consumed her to a point where she could no longer endure reality, she placed her head down on his chest and let the darkness take her away.

Draco Malfoy opened his eyes and all he could see was a massive ball of hair. It was in his mouth, his nose, squishing scratchily against his eyeballs, literally consuming him.

He tried to control it but it was near impossible.

He sneezed.

The jarring noise combined with the jerking of his body caused Hermione Granger to bolt out of a dead sleep and fall backwards off the side of the hospital bed and onto the floor.

"Holy FUCK!" Draco bellowed clutching the massive scar across his chest that had been tightly bandaged. "What the FUCK Granger? That bloody almost killed me."

She had her hand over her heart, her eyes wide and dazed as if she couldn't believe it. And then she was laughing and crying and jumping on top of him and kissing every inch of his face she could reach.

"Ouch. Ouch. Ouch," he muttered against her lips, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his own.

"You're back," she whispered. "I missed you."

He must have died and gone to heaven. This was it for him. Redemption.

"Granger. What happened?" he asked, his voice deep and hoarse, as he simultaneously plunged his hands into her unruly hair and breathed in her intoxicating scent.

"It doesn't matter, you're okay now. It's over."

Her smile was so brilliant that he felt his heart melting under her gaze.

"Granger, I feel…" he looked down suddenly and watched as the blood receded from his bandaged chest. He tore it off quickly as she protested. The monstrous stab wound had disappeared from his pale skin. "Different," he smirked in wonder.

"You're free," she laced their fingers together, sitting back and looking down at him with triumph. "You'll never turn again unless you want to."

"Feeling proud of yourself?" he asked teasingly.

"I'm proud of _you,"_ she whispered.

"How so?" he questioned, loving the feel of her skin against his.

"You didn't kill Ron."

His eyes darkened at the mention of the Weasel and he increased the pressure of his hand around hers. He hated the fact that that piece of shit ever touched her.

"Not yet," he promised darkly.

"Draco, he needs help."

And that's what he'd be getting. A psychological analysis of his mental state and a padded cell where he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone until… _if_ he was cured— that was probably for the best but it saddened her to an exponential degree.

Though she could not blame Draco for his loathing, just as she really couldn't blame Ron either.

"Helped right into a shallow grave," he sneered, his upper lip curling back with distaste.

"Stop it," she scolded.

"Make me," he pouted.

She frowned before leaning down and pecking his lips. He pulled her in for a deeper caress. She moaned against him. "

Fuck Granger, let's get the hell out of this hospital and back to your place."

"You have to rest. Just because the scar is gone doesn't mean the wound is healed. Plus I have work to do-"

"Later," he murmured biting at her lips.

"Draco-" she groaned.

"-I promise, later."

He flipped her over onto her back, ready to dive into her soft flesh when the door opened and in strolled Harry Potter. One look at the scene before him and he strolled right back out.

"Harry!" Hermione called, a red stain gracing her cheeks as she tossed Draco to his side. He threw up his hands in defeat.

"We'll talk later Hermione!" Harry called over his shoulder refusing to turn around as he quickly closed the door behind him.

She let out a giggle before collapsing down on the bed next to her lover. He had a far away look in his eyes that she had never seen before, it was odd but it was as if he was finally at peace.

"Malfoy?"

"Hmmm?" he nodded, closing his eyes.

"Are we always going to be like this?" she whispered, running her fingers through his hair and down his perfectly sculpted cheek.

"Like what?"

A frown marred his gorgeous features.

"A total contradiction. Complete opposites. Mortal enemies?"

She tried for humor and failed.

He opened one eye and stared at her with concentration, as if trying to figure her out. Some days she was a strange, foreign concept to him, but not today. He turned his full attention on her, holding her as close as humanly possible to his chest.

"You are the most brilliant and compassionate woman I've ever known. You are kind and humble and everything that is right in this world. And you have taken me, an evil, vile little cockroach and saved my life. But that's not why I love you. I love you because you are everything I could ever want and never have. And selflessly you have given me everything I will ever need. Be mine forever," he whispered harshly, caressing her face as if she were an apparition, one that would disappear at any moment.

His eyes were hazy. She knew he was still in pain and trying to fight it.

"You need to rest," she whispered, rubbing her fingers gently across his bare chest. "Sleep."

"Mmmm," he murmured, closing his eyes again and nuzzling his face into her neck. "Granger," he breathed softly.

"Yes, Draco?" she asked quietly as she wrapped her arms around his healing soul.

He answered with a smirk and a kiss against her pulse before falling into her love and finding peace in dreams.

Hermione smiled to herself as she contemplated the fates of the Universe and how lucky she was to have captured the most complicated and necessary love of her life.

Yes, she was content. And all was silent, for the time being.

Sunday morning's chaos couldn't come soon enough.


End file.
